A Turk's Demise
by wrathofnero
Summary: This moving tale describes the life of a Turk, Vincent, who struggles with himself as he is faced with rejection of his only lover, Lucrecia, and revenge against a mad scientist in the process.


"Her beauty overwhelms me, Reno," I said, loosening my tie.

"You're in over your head. Lucrecia has had her eye on Professor Hojo here lately, and you know how crazy that bastard is," Reno began, brushing his crimson red hair back with his hands, "always talkin' about that Jenova project and all."

"Yeah, but she did smile at me when I walked through the laboratory."

"Ah, you're just shittin' me now, aren't you?"

_Ring, ring._

That tune was so familiar in my ears, my good friend Nobuo Uematsu composed that back in his younger days of practice. The tune had a happy, victorious ring to it, so I always pleasured in hearing it, especially during a heavy mission. "Why did he offer himself up as a test subject as well? If only he were around here to hum that stupid-sounding song."

"Hello? Oh, Rude, I meant to tell you to grab an extra pair of sunglasses for this next mission. Yeah, that's all you'll need. Alright, bye."

_Click, clack._

The mission that we were currently on was settled a few months after the Wutai-Shinra War. We were to find the last remaining Cetra and submit them for testing. It would not be easy, to say the least, but we knew of their rebellion against Jenova, and they had to be executed. "Why am I out to kill these innocent souls? Just because their ancestors did it, doesn't mean that they care," I almost felt hopeless as I thought. It was as if I _had_ to listen to this voice in my head. I didn't have to question my own sanity because somehow I knew that Reno, and even Rude, felt it, too.

Suddenly, a voice came over the intercom, prompting us to discontinue the mission and to head back to headquarters.

"That's bullshit!" Reno exclaimed, slamming his rod against the wall of the truck.

"This will give me the night that I need to tell Lucrecia how I feel," I thought to myself. The echo of the rod's collision still rang heavily in my ears, and, somehow, the familiarity of that gun-fire sound made me tremble, but I could not figure out why.

When the truck arrived back at headquarters, which it would've gone anyway just to pick up Rude, Reno swung the door open with so much anger and frustration, only to find that the door suddenly stopped with a loud thump and a body crashing to the ground. As Reno stepped out, I heard a familiar, yet horrible-sounding, crunch. I examined his heel to see a pair of destroyed sunglasses. As I looked out the door, I saw Rude wiping blood off of his nose, then retreiving his other pair of sunglasses from his black uniform jacket.

"Boss says that we," Reno stopped short.

"I know, Reno. By the way, Vincent, you are dismissed until further notice. Go enjoy yourself a nice 'colada at the bar. Reno, I need to speak with you about some more personal business," Rude said solemnly.

"Thank you, sir," I said, as I turned to walk inside.

Arriving in the bar, I realized that, for some reason, this place was even more beautiful than usual. I came to the conclusion that the main source of vibrant beauty was coming from my Lucrecia, who was seated in the corner. As I approached, she greeted me with a smile and an offer to sit beside her, which I could not refuse. As I sat down, I slipped a hand down her back, her tender skin giving way to my calloused hands, only to find myself against her body, lost in her passionate emotions. I softly leaned in to kiss her, only to feel her push me back with utter regret.

"Vincent, I can't, I am going to be the mother of Hojo's child."

"Oh God, did he," I questioned, only to be answered with her soft nod.

Months came and went, and it was time for her to give birth to her child. The baby survived, but, during the labor, her vital signs began to drop, then bottom out as she died right before my eyes. Hojo named the baby Sephiroth and stated that this child would be the greatest warrior of all time, but I was too enraged to let him live another second. I realized that the only way to end this madness was to travel to Shinra Mansion and pay a visit to the maddened scientist himself.

I loaded my shotgun with three shots, and I took Shinra's company helicopter to Nibelheim. "He is going to pay for his sick and derranged experiments," I thought to myself. There was no way that a man this sick was to be allowed to live; not as long as I could encounter him every day.

As I entered the town, the shotgun felt so chilling to my chest, as if the gun was Death himself. The cool breeze and the darkness encloaked me as I solemnly avoided the lamplights on the street. The gate to the mansion was closed, but as I kicked it firmly, it creaked open, the dirt giving way as the spikes of the gate clawed at the familiar wounds of the earth. I could see the footprints of the scientist in many different styles, for this was his place of study. As I decended down the steps, every single one had its own familiar and distinct creak or clank, the railing had its wobble as well. As I felt the soft dirt give slightly under my foot, I knew that there was no turning back; it was now or never. I saw Hojo in the laboratory, reading a book. As I approached him, I saw his body in a more disclosed manner. He had a tentacle for an arm and his eyes had a mysterious taint to them. "This sick bastard has even began experimenting on himself!" I thought wildly to myself, unsheathing my shotgun, aiming and pulling the trigger that seemed to fight against time to resist.

_Boom!_

I fell to my knees, a tear in my eye as I felt myself falling to the dirt. "Am I," I paused, questioning the validity of this dream, closing my eyes, I flinched lightly as my face hit the dirt. A breeze flowing over my body, blowing more dirt against my face. I could hear Hojo stepping closer to me, and I heard him kneel beside me. "What is he going to do to me? Is he going to roll me over? Will he kill me?"

The cool wind against my face was a relief to my burdened lungs. As I opened my eyes, the blurred unclarity of sleep made it nearly impossible to make out the figure standing before me. The first noticeable features of this being were the blonde, spikey hair, and the unsettling eyes with the tainted color. Another familiar feature was a sword mounted to his back. Was I dead or alive? If I was indeed alive, this would prove a perfect chance to get revenge on the murderer of the only one I'll ever love.


End file.
